


Unexpected friends

by Syven



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 17:12:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11295087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syven/pseuds/Syven
Summary: Originally written on 03/12/2008 for the_rainbow_jen on LJ in response to her prompt. Set post-DH





	Unexpected friends

The bottom of a Firewhiskey bottle is a very sad thing. 

Ginny stared at the inch of smoldering, amber liquid behind the glass. It was a very sad and lonely thing that made her wonder if the mildly attractive bartender planned on coming back. He'd mumbled something about a key, cards and helping something with self but she wasn't sure what it was anymore – his words had gained a jumbled-together aspect after the eighth shot of Firewhiskey. 

Ginny was pretty sure she didn't know why he'd talk about helping himself but she was fairly certain that the Firewhiskey in the bottle wasn't increasing in size. She was also pretty sure that she wanted there to be more of the liquid in the bottle than bottle on the bar. Upon careful contemplation, Ginny nodded to herself, confirming that she did, indeed, want there to be more liquid than bottle but when she looked around to mention that, she found herself alone.

Being alone was something she'd grown used to over the last few months. So much so that in addition to celebrating the Harpies victory over the Cannons, she was also celebrating Harry leaving her exactly three months ago to the day. It wasn't quite on the same level as winning the game but she was making a serious go of it, regardless.

Ginny couldn't begrudge him for going, either. Harry, by and large, did not like to be the center of attention, unless your name was Ginny Molly Weasley. Then he rather expected it. She supposed it was just a matter of miscommunication, when she thought about it. 

_'Which she didn't.'_

Not a lot anyway. As her Mum was fond of saying, it did no good to cry over spilled milk. Or was that weep over thrown gnomes? Harry had wanted certain things and she'd wanted certain things. It wasn't either of their faults that those things weren't the same.

She gave her head a shake. Her firm promise to herself, to not think about it, seemed to have wavered for a moment. Ginny's narrow, hazed glare turned toward the nearly empty bottle. Apparently, in addition to its other talents, Firewhiskey could make you break promises to yourself. Ginny made a mental note to remember that. 

Or at least she momentarily contemplated a mental note before forgetting what it was she wanted to make a mental note of.

 _'Forgetful also. Besides… umm, something else. Clearly not an entire page of Pro's then,'_ she mused, lifting the bottle and drawing it closer, peering at the small sliver of liquid that sloshed against the glass. 

"Fer a Beor who won, you're lookin' to that bottle a bit too long," came a jovial voice from behind her. A jovial _male_ voice that was vaguely familiar. 

Ginny pushed back on the bar, straightening as she used the bar to turn herself on the stool. A jovial, male, familiar, _Irish_ voice… "Seamus!" 

He caught her as she overstretched, her arms thrown out wide to hug him. She didn't appear to be bothered by the fact that he gently set her back on the stool, as he did seem happy to return her embrace, hugging her tightly. "Ginny, love. I never thought I'd see you in here. Wouldn't you rather be at the Leaky?"

"Pish. Leaky, shmecky," she waved her hand in front of her face, than looked at it, blinking as she tried to remember why she'd done that. "Too many bloody reporters at the Leaky. Wait a minute… you aren't a reporter, are you?" Ginny squinted at him, drawing back.

"Not me, darlin'. You're looking at Trainee Second Level, Auror Seamus Finnigan, you are," he winked at her with a saucy grin. While he hadn't gained a great deal in height since her Seventh - his Eighth year at Hogwarts, the Gryffindor Irishman had filled out. Where he'd been lanky and short in school, Seamus now boasted broad shoulders that bespoke the muscular frame of a young twenty year old. 

Luna had told her something about Seamus. She was sure of it. Absolutely, positively sure it was something memorable – except, of course, that she couldn't remember it. An amused cough drew her gaze back up to his and Ginny realized that she'd been staring. 

Her cheeks flushed as she stammered. "Well, then, congratulations are in order! Bartender, more Firewhiskey!" Ginny swiveled around, holding her arm up shakily as she called out.

Someone was drawing her arm down and she blinked in surprise to find it was Seamus. He held her wrist loosely in his hand and said. "There now, love. I think you've had enough Firewhiskey for one night, don't you?"

"But it's just so… look! All the lovely smoke and oh… the fire as it goes down!" Ginny grinned, reaching out to stroke his light beard playfully. It was so soft - such a nice, soft beard and he smiled wider at her touch.

"Yes, it’s got many fine qualities, love, but you wouldn't want to drink it all. It's too good not to share, yeah? Come on now, beauty. Give us a hand," he purred, catching her as she spun around again, slipping his arms behind her back and under her knees. "Do ya have a Floo, then?"

He was most _definitely_ fit, she confirmed, laying against his hard chest and wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders. At his question, Ginny nodded, her nose rubbing against the soft whiskers of his beard. It was still soft. "Yup! Got me all those burger… no, burgle? The not thief thingee ones! Right lovely, it is. Even keeps out bloody nosy reporters! You've a nice chin. Did you know that?"

"Do you now? Well, that puts a damper on gettin' you home safe, now doesn't it?" Seamus mused, trying to ignore the soft, tiny movements of her hands and her warm breath against his neck. This was no time to be getting randy over his ex-schoolmate's lady. The same one he'd had more than a few naughty dreams over. He groaned as she shifted, her lips brushing under his earlobe. "What of Harry, then? Might he be home to open the Floo?"

"Harry? Harry smarry! What would he be doing at my flat?" Ginny rested her head on his ample shoulders, closing her eyes for a moment. He smelled good, solid and masculine. It would be okay to close her eyes for just an itsy, bitsy minute, Ginny told herself.

"He's your man, love. Here, let me Firecall over. Ginny Weasley!" Seamus carried her over to the fireplace and shouted into the flame. It flashed green and he waited but no one responded. "Is he out somewhere, love? I don't want to send you through alone in your condition, you could get hurt."

She snorted softly, in a very unladylike manner, patting his chest as she answered, her words slurring. "Don't have a man. Nope. Not anymore! All free and alone, that's me! Oh, I'll be fine. Haven't splinched myself yet!"

"Oh, now I definitely am thinkin' that sendin' ya through alone is a bad idea. Hold on tight, love," Seamus frowned, not sure of what her answer really meant. 

The young witch was stone drunk and he considered taking her to St. Mungo's when he saw the Firewhiskey bottle's level, but reconsidered quickly. He had a sober potion or two at his flat and it wouldn't kill him to sleep on the couch for one night – the publicity a visit to St. Mungo's would cost her damage her career.

Seamus side-along disapparated into the darkened living room of his flat, his own wards allowing her to pass through safely just by his holding her. He nearly jumped in surprise when he felt her fingertips sliding between the buttons of his shirt and he strode down the hallway to his bedroom quickly. 

Setting her on the edge of his bed, Seamus drew the covers down and slide her fully-clothed between the sheets. It took him a minute to figure out the clasps of her boots but he managed, putting them beside the nightstand before drawing up the coverlet. He began to stand but Ginny shifted, reaching out to curl her hand around his wrist. 

"Stay. t's all right. 'm not gonna…" her voice trailed off but she gave his wrist a small tug.

"All right, love. Just let me get a potion from the bathroom, all right? I'll be right back, I promise," Seamus soothed softly, squatting beside the bed to brush her hair back from her face. 

She was quite lovely, like a small, tired kitten curled up in his bed and the part of him that was least saint-like wanted to know if he could make her purr. The Auror-In-Training part of him sharply reminded himself of her inebriated condition and the ethics that involved. Her hand relaxed and he stood, going to the bathroom quickly and retrieving the sobering potion. When he returned, she'd flipped over and was dead asleep so he set it on the nightstand and considered what she'd said. 

Telling himself that he was most assuredly _not_ going to do anything except sleep, he shrugged out of his shirt and toed off his trainers before climbing into his bed. Making sure that he was a respectable distance from her, he lay awake listening to the sound of her breathing. 

Seamus Finnigan knew he has a reputation for being something of a play wizard. It was a reputation that he rather enjoyed a great deal, always careful not to bring a bird back to his place so he could make an easy escape and he knew that the birds he went home with were also aware that he wasn't going to be there in the morning. The carefree lifestyle suited him and he had no interest in changing it. As such, he was wholly unprepared for the tightness in his chest at the soft whimper that escaped her parted lips. 

Without thinking it over, he reached over and drew her against his side, tucking one arm behind her to cradle her small, soft form. He gritted his teeth at the gentle caress of her hand along the span of his chest and, mercifully, the movement stopped after a brief moment. She'd curled one leg over his and Seamus felt his body responding to the warmth of her. 

Never in a million years would he ever have thought _he_ , Seamus Finnigan, bad boy of the Gryffindor wizards, would be holding _her_ \- Ginny Weasley, the 'hands off, she's Harry's girl with six other brothers' beauty that he'd wanked off to many a night – let alone feeling the warm puffs of her breath on his chest.

She shifted in her sleep, the curve of her lush breast pressing against his side and Seamus cursed under his breath. It was going to be a long night. A long, sleepless night.

Seamus woke to the scent of brewing coffee and found a note charmed to his bedroom door.

_Seamus,_

_Thank you for looking out for me last night. You are a prince. I made some coffee for you and a spot of breakfast – it's charmed to keep it warm. I'm sorry I couldn't stay and thank you in person for being such a gentleman but I had an early practice._

_Let me make it up to you with dinner tonight, if you've no plans._

_Cheers,  
Ginny_

He read the note again and said a silent prayer of thanks that she'd not noticed his very hard, morning erection. Stripping out of his clothes, Seamus stepped into the shower and groaned as his wet hand curled around his aching cock. Bracing one hand against the tiles, he closed his eyes, imagining it was her small hand fisting him tightly as he wanked furiously, lips parted, panting harshly in time to each stroke. It was the transposed mental picture of her kittenish lips stretched tightly around his cock, his hands gripping her vibrant hair that pulled the one of the strongest orgasms he'd had in years from him. Dazed and blinking off the stars in his eyes, Seamus' heavy breathing filled the small compartment.

After dressing and enjoying the big breakfast she'd made him, Seamus wisely decided that he would beg off on dinner. There was no way he could be around her now without making a fool of himself and Mrs. Finnigan didn't raise a fool. No sir-ee. 

Which is exactly why he watched himself write an owl saying he'd see her at 7 sharp, with a sense of surreal disbelief. It was a sense that he grew to truly appreciate over the next five months of casual dinners and humor-filled lunches, spending most of their free time together growing to be the best of friends. 

The fact that they were, of course, becoming fast friends would not have been a problem but for the fact that Seamus found his dreams becoming frighteningly graphic and he was spending enough time in the shower that his fingertips seemed to be perpetually wrinkled.

Seamus has a particularly bad moment during a pick-up game of Quidditch with her team-mates and his friends when a Beater knocked her off her broom. Ginny had twisted in mid-air when he caught her, disapparating them both onto the pitch with Seamus lying atop her. Her brown eyes had gone wide, their lips only a mere inch apart, his sandy brown hair framing his face, before he hurriedly rolled to the side.

He told himself over and over that he just needed to pick up a bird and get properly laid but he found himself making excuses for every one that caught his eye. The ones Ginny pointed out to him were far worse, though, being undeniably gorgeous, as he invariably made some lame excuse that made no sense whatsoever. Seamus told himself that Ginny pointing out birds for him to pick up was, by far, the sickest, most twisted, torture he could think of. 

If she had a clue, Ginny made no hint of it, going out of her way to do things for him – like having the Kenmare Kestrals, his favorite Quidditch team, drop by the Three Broomsticks the night she took him out for his birthday. He threw his arm casually over her shoulder, relishing the minute shake of her laughter under his weight, joking with the players and feeling as if nothing could top that moment when Theodore Nott made his way over to their circle. 

The ex-Slytherin played Keeper for the Kestrals and he'd plied Ginny away with the offer to show her a new move that their Seeker had perfected. She'd tried to beg off, claiming that it was too dark and she couldn't just leave her friend on his birthday but Seamus had gritted his teeth and pushed her toward the door. _'He couldn't be the sorry chap and keep her from having fun,'_ he told himself but he watched them leave with blinding anger. His hands clenched tightly as the slimy bloke put his hand on the small of her back at the door, shooting him a smug grin behind Ginny's back. He'd never felt the urge to kill someone more in all his life.

Throwing a few galleons on the bar, he Floo'd home and poured himself a whiskey. Nursing the drink, he had only just flopped onto his sofa when the Floo flashed again and Ginny stepped out. Seamus struggled to sit up but she pushed him back gently, a patient but mildly frustrated look on her face. 

"Bloody hell, don't you fancy me at all, Seamus?" she asked, exasperated, her cheeks flushed at her own boldness. But, by Merlin! Ginny had tried to be good and look what it'd gotten her? A Slytherin who'd nipped her out of the bar before she'd gotten up enough liquid courage to finally tell Seamus how she felt. One dodged, sloppy kiss later, Ginny was at the end of her proverbial rope. 

He blinked at her question, first in disbelief then in dawning realization. In one fluid motion, Seamus threw the whiskey glass to the side and stood, burying one hand in her long hair as he tilted her head back and sealed his mouth over hers. 

His free hand curled around her upper arm, pulling her against him roughly. If she'd imagined this, it was nothing compared to the reality as Seamus tightened his grip on her hair, forcing her lips apart and sliding his tongue against hers in deep, ravenous strokes. She mewed in her throat at the bolt of sensation coursing through her veins.

Guiding her backwards, he pressed her against the wall, groaning as his erection ground against her hip. He pulled back from the kiss, growling. "Do I _fancy_ you? Merlin, girl, are you mental? Fuck, I wanted to kill that ruddy arse you left with!"

"I didn't _want_ to take him anywhere, but you just _sat_ there! I thought if you fancied me, you'd have said something but you just acted like I was your little sister!" She replied, astonished. Squeezing her hand between their bodies, she cupped the denim outline of his cock and pressed against it. 

"Bloody hell, Gin, I've never thought of you like a sister," Seamus groaned, trailing impatiently kisses down her neck, undoing the buttons of her shirt with one hand and pushing it back off her shoulder. 

Then, just as suddenly as he'd pushed her against the wall, he drew back and swept her up into his arms. Ginny hurriedly threw her arms around his neck as he strode down the short hallway to his bedroom and kicked the door open with his boot. She'd managed to get three buttons of his shirt undone before he set her down on the bed and he chuckled, straddling her as he rose up and pulled his shirt off over his head. 

He reached for the clasp of her denims and Ginny did the same, both laughing and breaking apart to shimmy out of their remaining clothes. Ginny looked up from dropping her bra to find him frozen in place. Self-consciously, she splayed her hand over the scar on her hip. The deep, angry jagged line raked down to the top of her thigh – a souvenir from a rogue Death Eater two weeks after Voldemort's fall. Ducking her head, she said. "I know it's bloody awful. I usually glamour it…"

"Hush, girl. Tis not a bit of you I would glamour," Seamus stated, crossing the room with a fierce glint in his eye. Tipping her chin up and drawing her hand away from the mark, he set her hand on his hip and slid his up the curve of her waist to cup her breast. Tracing his thumb over her nipple, Seamus tilted her head to the side, laving her neck and jaw with kisses as he teased the hardened peak. His cock twitched impatiently against her stomach and he hissed against her shoulder when Ginny's hand curled around it. 

_'Filch. Filch. Filch. Filch.'_ Seamus thought desperately, praying he wouldn't spill himself now that he'd finally had the girl of his dreams in his arms. The irony of Dean Thomas' teasing finally hit home and he shakily drew her hand away. "On the bed with you, now. 'fore I change me mind."

Ginny gasped, then found the humor dancing in his eyes and laughed. Turning, she pounced on his bed and folded an arm behind her head, one coltish leg drawn up as she teased. "Seamus Finnigan, if you change your mind, I'll never make you coffee again."

"Cors, love, not that! Anything but that!" He let out a strangled, forced chuckle as he crawled up her body, soothing his hand along the shapely curve of her thigh to the soft curls at her mound. Suckling her breast, Seamus slid one finger between the moist folds and circled it around her nub and back again. 

She arched into his touch, stroking his arms and chest, groaning as he shifted out of her reach when she tried to go lower. He slipped another finger into her tight core, twisting his hand to rake her clit with his thumb as he fucked her with his fingers. Ginny panted against the hollow of his throat, saying. "Bloody hell, yes, there, right there. Fuck, Finnigan, you're driving me bloody mad…" 

Her body curled up off the bed, her head thrown back as he lightened his strokes, drawing her orgasm out. Seamus nudged his knee under her bottom, resting her thigh across his own as he brushed the hair out of her eyes, greedily soaking in the hazed, sated look in her eye. 

After a moment, she blinked and a soft smile curled on her lips as she tugged at his arm and he shifted to settle between her legs, his mind going blank when his aching cock brushed against her wet curls. His hand shook as he guided himself into place and slid home, groaning as the tight clench of her pussy stretched to take him. "Bloody hell, Gin, you're tight as a…" Seamus' gaze flashed up to meet hers, fearful that he was hurting her, his thrust halted. "Gin. Ginny, love…"

"No, you silly tosser," Ginny blushed furiously, curling her hips up to meet his and she was rewarded with a strangled moan as he thrust to the hilt inside her. He drove harder in the next thrust and she wrapped her leg around the back of his, catching his lips in a deep kiss. Her nails raked into his shoulders when he changed angles, moaning. "Harder, Finnigan, I'm not a doll."

He obliged her, drawing her other leg up over his back, pounding into her tight heat as rivets of sweat rolled between his shoulder blades. He wanted her to come again, needed to feel her clenching around him, and he told her so, grabbing one of her hands and pressing her fingers to her clit. "Touch yourself, love. Need to feel you come. That's it."

Lost in the soft press of her ankle at the small of his back, dizzy with the scent of her arousal, Seamus felt the tightening of her body around him and then, her body was clutching around him and he was coming hard. When his senses returned, he was grateful to find he hadn't collapsed atop her, opening his eyes to find her doing the same. 

Carefully extricating himself, Seamus frowned when the bed shifted and turned to see Ginny edging off the bed. He reached out and grabbed her by the wrist. "What are you doing, love?"

"I was just… I mean, I know you don't like to… you know," Ginny explained, a light blush rising on her cheeks. She knew he was a one-off kind of wizard, it wasn't something she wanted to jeopardize their friendship. She swallowed and drew her shoulders back, saying firmly. "I'm not one of those whiny bints, you know. We are still… _friends_ and it's late so I should just…"

His eyebrows arched up in surprise and he rose up on one elbow, stating. "We're not goin' to be friends if you go waltzin' off like I'm some two-galleon joe, love."

"But I… no! Oh gods no! I'd _never_ …" she stumbled over her words, letting him tug her down beside him. 

Seamus rolled onto his side, tucking her against him and wrapping his arm around her waist tightly. Nuzzling her ear, he murmured, his voice heavy with sleep. "Stay and make me coffee in the morning."

"You drive a hard bargain, Finnigan," Ginny chuckled, relaxing in his embrace. She was sound asleep in seconds and Seamus… Well, he discovered that there was something better than having his bed to himself. 

~

1Beor (pronounced bee-yo) (n): attractive woman


End file.
